Trapped
by Fiery
Summary: Hermione and Draco have to be hidden away at a safe-house following the demise of Voldemort as remaining death eaters grow more desperate and violent... their time together resulting in much more than either of had bargained for! Series of drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

"WHAT?" Hermione said, jumping out of her seat.

Professor McGonagall motioned for her to sit back down.

"It will only be for a short period, Miss Granger. Until the ministry has found and arrested the remaining Death Eaters. You and Mr Malfoy will be taken to a safe-spelled location and hidden until the threat is over."

"But surely there's another-"

"The house has already been secured, and there are aurors are waiting for your arrival in the Great Hall. I cannot stress how serious—and urgent—the situation is."

Hermione remained unconvinced, for once not seeing eye-to-eye at all with her Professor.

"You can at least explain why the sudden urgency, and secrecy… and why with Malfoy of all people?"

After a long moment, Professor McGonagall replied, watching Hermione's face closely, "The ministry has been receiving anonymous threats since he-who-must-not-be-named's downfall."

Hermione nodded. She already knew this, it was common knowledge amongst members of the order, who had finally begun allowing her, Harry and Ron into their meetings after you-know--_Voldemort_'s death.

"I have just been informed that moments ago, ministry has just received a threat directly pertaining to _you_, Miss Granger. All the more alarming because they knew precisely where to find your parents, where to find your relatives, and your muggle friends."

Hermione's stomach dropped, and she suddenly felt very cold.

"…but… how?"

McGonagall shook her head. "We don't know. We don't know how they had access to these records as they are kept secure at the—,"

"Ministry."

"Exactly."

"So…. So the threat had to come from _inside_ the ministry? And I'm supposed to be going under the ministry's protection?" Hermione frowned. This… this was far from good.

McGonagall explained further.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt will be taking you, and another auror. Only they--and now, _I_--know you shall be with Mr Malfoy, at his already secured safe-house. Hence why this has been done as suddenly and as secretly as it has."

Hermione looked at her Professor, and head of house, for the first time in a long while, feeling utterly lost.

"What… what do I do from here?" She could not bear to think what would happen if the death eaters had somehow managed to track down her parents' location in Australia. No one knew, not even the order knew, what she had done.

"Follow me, Miss Granger." And with that McGonagall stood swiftly, and walked briskly from her office, and turning down the corridor towards the great hall.

Hermione, after a moment, swallowed with resolve, and followed her.

Her thoughts were churning in her head, and she was having trouble concentrating on any one thing in particular. She had so much to ask her professor but she didn't know where she wanted to start—she only had a few seconds before they'd reach the hall.

"The Weasleys, and Harry—they don't know—"

"I will inform them, you need not worry. You do, however, need to go, now." McGonagall swung open the doors to the great hall, and gestured at Shacklebolt who stood near the teacher's table, another auror close behind.

She put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, and turned her around.

"Hermione," she said. "I don't doubt that you will find this difficult. However, I have complete faith that things will work out. I shall come and get you when the threat is over."

As Shacklebolt approached where Hermione and McGonagall were standing, he removed a simple tennis ball from his pocket.

"We'll be traveling by portkey." He said.

McGonagall nodded, and relinquished her hold on Hermione's shoulder.

As Hermione leaned over to place her hand on the ball, and as she felt the all too-familiar jerk around her naval, she could swear she heard McGonagall say, "good luck."

TBC


	2. 1: Arriving

A/N: This story will be comprised of a series of drabbles of varying length.

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**1: Arriving**

Shacklebolt and, as Hermione later learned, Auror Healey, had, no sooner after they arrived at the safe-house, portkeyed back out without so much as a 'goodbye' or 'good luck' or a 'you'll be safe'.

Indeed, she felt like she had been unceremoniously dumped on the living room floor, left to deal with a rather complicated situation.

"Y_ou," _a voice breathed from behind her.

Startled, she turned around, and was faced with a pale, pointed face that belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy. There was a pregnant pause.

"_Granger?"_ His said, hoarsely, disbelievingly. His eyes narrowed down to ice-blue slits.

"Malfoy," Hermione finally replied, picking herself up off the floor dusting off her jeans.

"They did not say that it would be _you_ that was coming," Malfoy said furiously, indicating at the crumpled bit of parchment he held in his left hand. "This cannot be happening! I cannot deal with spending weeks or even months trapped in this hell hole with you, you insufferable, ill-mannered, know-it-all Gryffindor."

It was nothing she'd not heard coming from his mouth before, in fact, she generally heard much worse coming from Malfoy. However, her rushed depature had left her rather more irritable than usual and she felt her temper rising.

"Believe me, Malfoy, if I had any other option whatsoever I'd take it, in less than a second," she shot back. "You know that I had no say in the matter, and you know that I'm stuck here for as long as it takes! So stop complaining about it—not only will it do you, or me, absolutely no good, but you're already getting on my nerves!"

Angrily she spun on her heel and stalked out the door behind her, slamming it shut as she passed through.

~*~

Thanks so far for your kind reviews. I will take your suggestions on board but the story will go the way I think seems natural. And Thorn, there is nothing wrong with a nice Dramione fic. ;)


	3. 2: Ponderings

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**2: Ponderings**

Seething, Draco watched Granger leave the room. As much as he hated to admit it, after being cooped up alone for so long, he had been looking forward to finally having some company, and he was getting so desperate for some form of human contact that at stage he didn't really care who. But Granger? Of all the possible people in the entire world… they had to lump him with _Granger_.

Well, better her than Saint Potter, or the Weasel.

Suddenly weary, he walked over to the patterned lounges and sat down. He listlessly tossed the sheet of parchment bearing news of a newcomer to his abode onto the low coffee table in front of him and slouched back into the seat.

Bitterly he thought of his parents. As far as he knew his father was still in Azkaban along with his mother, feeding the ministry with information to round up the last of the rogue death eaters, on the one condition that he, their precious son, be kept out of harms way – from both the remaining death eaters and most importantly, from the ministry itself. He knew he should be grateful, appreciative of their sacrifice, which he could see was more for his benefit than their own (though, it certainly wouldn't hurt their case aiding the ministry considering the circumstances), but he hated feeling trapped and powerless. He needed to _do_ something, anything.

_Crash._

The kitchen.

Ah, Granger must have stumbled over that half step he nearly always missed himself. He smirked to himself thinking of how her shin must be throbbing right this instant.

At least she was potentially amusing.

She wouldn't rise to his baiting as easily as Weasley or Potter did, but Draco knew he could, if he was patient enough, still get a response from her. He winced inwardly as his thoughts led him back involuntarily to the time she had slapped him across his face. It had smarted, his cheek had not stopped tingling for at least an hour after she had accosted him, and (as much as he hated to acknowledge it) the bruise to his ego had lasted much longer than he would have liked.

Still, maybe her being here had its benefits after all.

~*~


	4. 3: Musings

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**3: Musings**

Hermione winced as her leg connected sharply with the edge of the step.

It was all in all, a fairly stupidly designed house, she thought furiously. And to cap it all off, she was fairly certain that Malfoy had heard her during her rare moment of clumsiness. Needless to say, she doubted he would keep his trap shut about it when she ran into him again.

She looked around the small kitchen, rubbing her sore shin. There were a few cupboards above and below the main kitchen bench which Malfoy had (thankfully) been keeping tidy. Hermione walked (hobbled, really) over to the refrigerator and opened up the steel door hopefully. After being suddenly removed from Grimmauld Place, and then once again being suddenly removed from Hogwarts, she had missed her breakfast. Thinking of breakfast gave her a small pang. Only a few minutes ago, she was due to sit down with the Weasleys and Harry to yet another one of Molly's fantastic meals…. Ron would have yet again unceremoniously stuff his face, and she would – yet again – watch on in both exasperation and amusement.

Who knew how long it'd be until she would see him again, or even hear from him… McGonagall hadn't mentioned anything about visits, not had she said anything about mail, or any other form of communication… a small knot formed at the bottom of her stomach as she considered the idea of being stuck here with Malfoy with absolutely no outside interference for… an indefinite amount of time…

Suddenly, she wasn't all that hungry anymore.

She let the fridge door close on its own, with a small _click_, as it sealed itself shut again.

Leaning back against the table, she thought about how best to approach her newly found situation.

As far as she knew, Malfoy had been hidden by the ministry for almost 3 months now, most likely in this one house the entire time… he would know what kind of security would be around the house… though she didn't really fancy the idea of having to talk to him, and the idea of having to ask him for information, for help – that was galling. No doubt he would spring on the opportunity to ridicule her lack of knowledge or insight (or foresight for that matter, not being already aware of what a magical safe-house entailed…).

But for now, she wanted to find her room and rest for a while, just for a few minutes, to gather her frayed nerves together before she confronted him again – after all, she _had_ walked out on him and slammed the door, to boot.

She shuddered as she imagined his insults – _uncivilized muggle, Granger.. any one of decent parentage would know not to walk out on others – and slamming doors? Clearly you're a deranged, you should be strapped up in a strait jacket, for everyone's safety…_

She snorted, and tripped over the stair once more.

~*~

Thanks again for your kind reviews 


	5. 4: Panic!

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**4: Panic!**

Back in the (very short) hallway, she looked curiously at the three closed doors on either side. She knew that the one furthest from where she stood was the lounge room, where Malfoy would still be (she hadn't heard him move). Obviously one of the closed doors would be Malfoy's bedroom, and the other would have to be hers.

She walked towards the one that was closer to the end of the hall and hesitantly gave the handle a light push. With a small click the door swung open silently revealing a quaint bathroom, with pale yellow tiles lining the floor and all four walls. In the corner there was a bathtub with a shower head attachment a bit further along to the left. There was a nice large sink opposite the bathtub with a simple (but large) mirror hanging over it.

A nice bathroom, she thought to herself, and closed the door.

Turning, she placed her hand on the only other remaining door of the house.

But wait – if this was the only other room, then it HAD to be Malfoy's room…

But … where was hers?

With a sick, plummeting feeling forming in her stomach, she pushed Malfoy's door open. Yes, it was, as expected, Malfoy's bedroom. It wasn't decked out in shades of green and silver as she would have thought, though… instead, it was mostly shades of blue – pale blues that made the fairly squashy room seem a bit more open and spacious.

Gulping, she closed the door and stepped back, now feeling the narrow corridor pressing its walls against her uncomfortably.

Where on earth was she supposed to stay?

This tiny house – this miniscule house – was arranged for ONE person only!

She spun around, suddenly not sure which door led to where, she only wanted to get out – to go home. She wanted_ her bedroom_ back, the one she had decorated herself at home. She wanted the room that was hers, and only hers. She didn't want to be stuck here with Malfoy. She wanted to be here with anyone BUT Malfoy – no, wait – she didn't want to be here at all. She spun around again trying to work out which door to go through, but suddenly she felt sick. She felt bile rising in the back of her throat and she felt short of breath and dizzy. It wasn't her home, she wasn't welcome and she knew it, and to cap it all off, she was already missing Ron and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys – what on Earth was she going to do?

~*~


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